


The Cure

by TrexReach100



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Comfort fic, Kid Fic, Kissing, M/M, and eric delivers, hence the explicit rating, jack needs eric, these boy love each other so much, this boy - Freeform, trigger warning: anxiety, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrexReach100/pseuds/TrexReach100
Summary: Jack thought he was handling his anxiety but a wobble causes him to question his own strength.  He seeks distraction with his family wondering if he should tell them about it or if he should continue on as normal.- - - -Rachel is the first to greet him, thundering down the hall like she’s been waiting all day.“Papa!” She cries hurtling herself into his arms.  He drops his kit bag and scoops her up pressing a big kiss to her cheek.“Salut mom petit agneau.” He kisses her temple inhaling the scent of strawberries and that indescribable but infinitely comforting baby smell.  He realises too late that her hands are sticky.  She smears jam on his chin as she squeezes his cheeks and presses a smacking kiss to his lips like she’s seen Bitty do a thousand times.  He aims to make his smile more grin than grimace.  “Où est daddy?”





	The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for anxiety or panic disorders in the first half of this. If you wish to skip the beginning please start from  
> 'Rachel is the first to greet him'. There is more discussion on Jacks anxiety because that's the whole point of this fic but just a warning for spiralling thoughts and some brief mindfulness themes.
> 
> This fic is close to my heart. I've not read many fics that deal with Jack's anxiety in a central way and I wanted to try and put to words how it feels for some anxiety sufferers.
> 
> BUT there is so much FLUFF and kid fic cuteness so I do hope you enjoy : ]  
> ***Edit*** I fixed the section where it repeats itself and also big thank you to [Orangepencils](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Orangepencils) for correcting my terrible french.

It comes out of nowhere.  One minute he’s thinking about Thirdy’s offer for a playdate (for the kids – he plays with Thirdy every day on the ice) and then the next he can’t breathe.

Well, he can but it feels hard, it doesn’t feel right.  It feels different to how it did a moment ago and if it’s different then it must be wrong because it was fine before and things that are fine don’t just suddenly stop being fine.

Right?

His brain agrees.

Something is wrong and the only solution is to freak out.  Now!

A voice inside of his brain, a voice belonging to the Jack who is trapped inside the bubble of whirling panic, tells him that there is nothing wrong.  Nothing was wrong on the ice except his inability to slapshot into the top right corner of the net but even that wasn’t wrong it was just…well it wasn’t perfect and usually that would bother Jack, hell it would provoke the kind of reaction he’s having now but he’s learned that you don’t have to be perfect at everything straight away.  That sometimes it takes you a while to master something and that’s not a failure, it’s human.  Besides he mastered it eventually and he thought that sense of accomplishment had followed him all the way out of the locker room out the front doors.  His tiny voice begging with his brain to listen to his body rather than assuming it knows how it feels is also trying to tell him to try focusing on something.

Jack tries to lose himself in opening the door, the feel of the plastic under his hands.  Is it warm? Is it cool? What does his hand feel like as it closes around the handle? But it’s too simple to be distracting, his brain never thinks about the mechanics of opening the car door and then he’s in the car slamming it shut behind him and nothing has changed.  He still feels weird and anxious and oh God what if this never ends? He can’t drive home like this and he can’t ask one of the guys for a lift because even though they know he has anxiety they just assume it’s your garden variety performance anxiety.

“Little scared is good.  Keep you from getting comfortable.” Tater slapped him on the back.  “I always feel nervous before games.  Is normal yes?”

Jack had nodded knowing that he could but wouldn’t explain how his anxiety wasn’t just trepidation before a game but trepidation about ordinary things for no reason.  It’s fear over scenarios that might happen and ones that have yet to happen, fear over how he’ll handle it _if_ he’ll handle it at all.

It’s the exhausting need to pay attention to everything and hating it and yet needing it too.

He thought he was managing his anxiety, and his life, but now it feels like he’s just been precariously balancing it all.  Trading off bad days for successful ones at home and at the rink is fine but ideally he’d like to live a life where he’s not gathering all his good days and trying to see them as equal to or greater than the bad ones.  He’d like to be able to see nothing but examples of a normal life lead by an NHL player.

A therapist once told him that if he wasn’t anxious he wasn’t paying attention, which he knows was her way of saying that everyone gets anxiety and it’s not singled him out to torture, but he’s paying too much attention to too much.  His brain feels overloaded with what if’s, doubts and that niggling feeling like any minute now his luck’s gonna run out if he doesn’t feel the constant oppressive weight of worry for a while.

He wants a life free of gulping lungful’s of air in the dim quiet.  Of having to talk himself down from a disaster that hasn’t even happened yet but his body thinks it needs to react to immediately anyway.

His fingers hover over Bitty’s number but he forces himself to take a breath, in for three and out for three.  Then another and another.  He tells himself there is nothing wrong then he tries to count the number of cars in the lot, to divert his brain from hurtling down the smoothly paved catastrophe road that his mind loves so much in these moments.

When he feels some space between his rational self and his irrational self, when the alarm bells dim and he convinces his brain to listen to how his body actually feels he puts the phone in the holder and turns the car over.

He doesn’t pull out straight away.  He flips the radio on pressing the scan button until he finds a classical station.  The sway of the music helps to divert his mind from unhelpful inner dialogue.  The lack of words means he doesn’t get overwhelmed as he simultaneously tries to listen and concentrate on traffic.

By the time he gets home the panic attack is an embarrassing memory.  The come down from an attack is immediate, shame at such an overreaction to nothing sweeps in making sure that Jack loathes himself for an unhealthy while.  Driving home wasn’t quite the picnic it usually is with the fear of another panic plaguing him as he drove but he’s back now and the moment he opens the door he hears the familiar heartening sounds of home life.

Rachel is the first to greet him, thundering down the hall like she’s been waiting all day.

“Papa!” She cries hurtling herself into his arms.  He drops his kit bag and scoops her up pressing a big kiss to her cheek.

“Salut mom petit agneau.” He kisses her temple inhaling the scent of strawberries and that indescribable but infinitely comforting baby smell.  He realises too late that her hands are sticky.  She smears jam on his chin as she squeezes his cheeks and presses a smacking kiss to his lips like she’s seen Bitty do a thousand times.  He aims to make his smile more grin than grimace.  “Où est daddy?”

She points in the direction of the kitchen “Kisshin.” She says in an approximation of the word.

“Hence the jam.” He says, mostly to himself but Rachel nods before shimmying to get down.  He sets her on her bare feet and follows her as she runs ahead.

In the kitchen the first thing he sees is Thibby in his highchair smashing carrot into his face.  Not into his mouth, because it’s closed, just at his lips spreading mush all the way from his chin up to his nose.  His bib is covered in stains, some that have been washed in but most new and still glistening.

The second things he sees is Bitty’s ass.  He’s bent over rooting around in the fridge.

Jack creeps past Thibby, who gives him a horrific orange smile, and slaps his husbands ass.

“What the heck!” Bitty shoots upright so fast that whatever he was messing with in the fridge falls to the floor.  “Jesus Jack!” He snaps, hand pressed to his chest, “you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Unrepentant he smiles.  “Hey babe.” He replies, leaning in to kiss the outrage off his husbands face.  It works and to take its place is a long suffering fondness that makes Jack feel warm inside.  “Dinner without me?” He nods towards Thibby.

Bitty grimaces at the sight of their messy child.  “Snack.  He gets his table manners from my paw paw.”

“Actually I think he gets them from the dog.”

Said dog is watching rapt at the mess his smallest owner (and partner in crime) is creating.  There’s a bubble of drool stuck to his gums and his tail is swishing softly as he eyes up the food on the tray in the hopes that in the process of painting his body with it Thibby will spill some onto the floor for him to hoover up.

“Celly,” Jack warns, “go away.”

The dog looks from his big boss to his tiny very tasty looking boss, angst pushing his bushy eyebrows up.  Jack doesn’t flinch when Celly lets out a little whine and with a last mournful look at the highchair he gets up, walks very slowly around the table and then parks himself about his own body’s length away from where he was sitting originally.

He makes a point of not looking at Jack and in response he can only sigh the sigh of a man who is being sassed by his own dog.

“I mean in his defence you didn’t exactly say how long he was to be gone for.” Eric says sympathetic to both he and Celly.

“Daddy some juice?” Rachel holds her cup up shaking it for emphasis.

Eric takes the beaker and fills it up a little over half way.  “Are you going into the playroom?” Rachel nods.  “Are you going to be a big girl and not spill this in there?” She nods again.  “Okay.”

Both men watch their daughter as she very carefully puts one foot in front of the other.  She makes it to the door before she spills some water on the hall carpet.  She continues on like nothing happened.  Jack exhales softly.

Thibby lets out a wail so unexpected both men jump.  He’s been like this a lot lately, fine one minute then screaming his head off the next.  It never lasts long but it’s a stark contrast to Rachels much more peaceful early years – though she’s making up for it now with her sassy toddler years.  Bitty looks at Thibby and the frazzled look he tries so hard to hide beneath his sunshine Georgia smile (an expression everyone thinks is his default but that Jack knows is a mask crafted from not ever wanting to be a bother or draw undue negative attention to himself), flickers over him.

Jack crosses to him before Bitty gets a chance to.  “I got him don’t worry.”

“But your shirt.” Bitty starts to object.

“Honey,” Jack laughs, lifting a still objecting Thibby from the confines of his chair, “I’m already sweating through it from practice it doesn’t matter.”

Bitty scrunches his nose, “You didn’t shower?”

“Bitty seriously.” He points at where their sons hands are fisting vegetable mulch into the fabric, “It’s too late now.  You carry on doing what you’re doing and I’ll clean him up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Honey I’ve got it handled.  Me and Thibs are gonna go have a bath aren’t we Thibs?” He hesitates long enough for Thibby to start thrashing wildly in protest. “Well okay,” Jack concedes, “we’re gonna try and have a bath.” Thibby wriggles in earnest nearly bending himself in two backwards trying to get free of his father’s arms.  “Hey man don’t get mad at me, you’re the one who put food all over your face.”

A carrot covered hand smacks into his cheek.  From the fridge Bitty cackles.  Thibby stops griping immediately, suddenly transfixed by the sound of his daddy’s laughter.  Jack knows the feeling.  He’ll never get tired of the sound of Bitty’s laughter, of the way it makes him feel when he’s the one to cause it.

Man he’s a sucker.  But he’s a happy sucker.

“Sweetheart I think you’ve got something on your face,” he points to his cheek then to Jacks, “right there.”

Jack makes his way casually around the breakfast bar, “Yeah?”

He watches as the corners of Bitty’s mouth curl turning his smile wary.  “Yeah – no Jack don’t.  Get away!” Bitty squawks tripping backwards over the fallen fridge food in his haste to put the counter between them.  For a beat they try to fake each other out, Jack going left, Bitty going right, Jack feinting right then trying to go left.  Then with a burst, which should be harder considering there’s a baby in his arms, he lunges around the counter knocking his hip on the corner in the process and snags Bitty’s shirt as he tries to get away.

He winds his fist in the fabric tugging him back.  “No you brute!” Bitty cries with laughter.  “Get off!”

Jack pulls him tight into his body hooking his chin over Bitty’s shoulder and rubs his cheek along the blonde stubble transferring any vegetable matter onto the other mans face.  “Is it gone?” He chuckles when he finally lets Bitty break away.

Bitty whirls around and tries to scowl at him but his eyes are glowing with mirth.  “You mister,” he points a finger at him wiping the mulch away with the other hand, “are a dead man later.”

“Oh really?” Jack grins antagonising.

“Really really.” He promises.

Thibby gasps like he knows his papa’s in trouble.

“Go give that child a bath.”

“Come here.” Jack asks softly.

Bitty gives him a suspicious once over.  “Not if you’re going to wipe food on me.”

“I won’t.  Come here.  Bits I promise.  Come on.” He entices.  Hesitantly Bitty leans in.  Jack presses a kiss to the cheek he soiled.  “Love you.”

“Mmm, that’s nice honey but kisses and sweet talk aren’t gonna save you.”

Jack pretends to grumble as he takes Thibby upstairs.

He’s in a good mood now, the scene in the parking lot suddenly a much more distant memory.  Downstairs he hears Bitty start to sing and Jack decides he’ll tell him about the attack later.

Yeah.  Later.

\- - - -

“We are all clean! There was a onesie in the closet I put him in that.  I think it used to be Rach’s but it fits him.”

Bitty turns around and promptly loses the ability to speak.

“Bits?”

“Erm…” his mind is blanking out.  The sight of husband shirtless displaying all his hard earned muscles is, frankly, too fucking much.  As if it’s not bad enough that Eric can see the outlines of every dip and curve of Jack’s abs, the sexy – good God it’s so sexy Eric loves kissing them- cut of his hip v and the way his pecs are firm enough to bounce quarters off of – just like his ass, he’s also carrying a baby.

Their baby.

Jack is carrying their child, shirtless, with ruffled end of the day ready to settle down with his husband hair.  Bitty temporarily forgives God for those confusing messages during his teenage years so he can send the big guy a thank you for the man before him now.  He then thanks Jack’s parents for having impeccable genes.

“What?”

“You okay there?” Jack tips his head to the side teasing smile on his lips like he knows just why Bitty is short circuiting.  “I got wet during bath time.”

Eric manages to roll his eyes but there’s no punch to it or the required sarcasm of a clever retort when he blurts, “You look hot.”

Jack blinks in surprise like he doesn’t hear that he’s good looking very often, like Eric doesn’t tell him he’s handsome and beautiful all the time.  Like he wasn’t on the Swallows hottest list just before his graduating year and did not break the internet with his ESPN body issue and every magazine spread he’s been in since.  He gives a quick look to his feet and then up again as if giving himself a once over even though he obviously can’t see his own face.  A vein of doubt lingers in his eyes espite his flattered smile.  “You think?” And the question is genuine.

This boy.  This _man_.

“Yes!” Bitty scoffs.  “Honestly Jack it’s like I don’t tell you all the time.”

“Stretch marks and all?” Jack asks playfully but his vulnerability is showing.

“Especially those.”

“Especially?”

“Yes.”

“But they’re ugly.”

“No they aren’t, or not to me they’re not.  They’re just…illustrations of change.”

“I got them because I was fat.” He snorts juggling Thibby who imitates the sound then, entertained, does it again and again until he’s blowing raspberries and soaking his father’s shoulder.  Jack grimaces and uses his onesie to wipe the worst of it off.

“But then you weren’t fat anymore.” Bitty counters finally remembering what he was doing before Jack came in and stunned him and goes back to putting the laundry away.  “You have more stretch marks after then from where you got taller, then where your muscles grew.  I know you worry about them but honestly from my point of view they’re not bad.  It’s like if you didn’t like your feet-“

“My feet…?” Jack glances at them with a worried frown.

“Good Lord your feet are fine.” Bitty sighs, “What I meant was sure it sucks not to like your feet but there’s nothing you can do about them to change them.  And they function how they’re supposed to.  They get you from A to B, they let you run, walk, dance, skate.” He shrugs, “Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean everyone else is of the same opinion.”

“Is that so?” Jack looks at Thibby amused and asks again, “Vraiment?” Thibby sticks his own fist in his mouth.

“Very Vraiment.” Bitty’s accent is still terrible but Jack doesn’t chirp him.

“So you don’t hate them?”

Bitty stops folding, “Honey of course not.  I don’t hate anything about you – save for those fu- silly yellow sneakers.  I love your stretchmarks.” He smiles a sweep of red painting a blush across his cheeks, “I love everything about you.”

He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the colour of the dresser or the weather today.  Like it’s an undeniable and natural fact because to Eric it is.  He loves Jack with all his heart and he is as surprised by it as Jack is.  Not because he doesn’t think Jack is worthy but because Eric had always hoped for love in life but never thought he’d actually get it.  Not forever, not like this, not real and honest and without fear.  As a teenager when he thought about his future he imagined dalliances.  Never able to be himself at home he suspected he might get a chance at college but never, never did he imagine that he would meet a boy who would be his captain and then eventually the love of his life and husband.  Eric Bittle at the tender age of eighteen never dreamed that in fourteen years’ time he’d be married to a man with two beautiful children.

“I love you.” Jack sighs dreamily with a dumb smile on his face.  Thibby gurgles and Jack coos at him, “I do love Daddy yes.  J’aime dada oui.  Peux-tu dire da da?” Thibby gives him a considering look that is lifted straight from Jack’s face and Bitty feels his grin stretch his face.  “Da da?” Jack repeats the same word over and over and Thibby once he realises what’s required of him makes some noises that are to him, probably, close to da da.  After a while though he grows bored of not being able to and starts to grouse.  “Oh bébé.” He rocks the baby in his arms a few times and as quickly as he started Thibby stops.

The man speaks Hockey, québécois, English and baby.  “You know if we weren’t already married I’d propose.”

“Yeah?” Jack smirks.

“Do not go to bed in pyjamas tonight mister.  That’s all I’ll say.”

Jack gets an entirely new look in his eyes.  “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Bitty turns from his husband and goes back to folding clothes with all his attention.

“Eric Bittle you bad bad man.” Jack snickers.

“Bad daddy!” Comes a voice from the doorway.

Eric looks over his should to see Rachel grinning cheekily like she’s just done something naughty…which she probably has.

“Yes that’s right.  Daddy is very naughty.”

Eric scoffs and rolls his eyes.  “Leave me to fold in peace good Lord.”

“Lawwwwd.” Rachel drawls.

Eric pretends he doesn’t hear Jack guffaw at the impression or he’ll be the only one wearing pyjamas tonight.

\- - - -

Excited Jack waits in bed.  He listens to the hush of the tap as Bitty brushes his teeth in their very luxurious bathroom.  It took Jack a long time to figure out that a house was more than just a place to sleep.  Even when he picked apartments in Providence his first year his only consideration was the kitchen and he wasn’t doing that for himself, he was doing it for Eric.

Of course he never told Eric that because even he knew that that decision, spoken out loud, sounded way to intense than their budding new relationship could possibly handle at such an early stage…but still he did it.  It wasn’t until he actually started to live with Eric that he realised there was a reason people cared about the spaces they used.  That painting a room could make it feel like something more than just a room that was now a different colour. 

When they adopted Rachel Jack started to really think about what a space truly had the potential to be.  How a house could serve as so much more than a storm shelter, how it could truly become a home.  Turns out when they browsed houses, Rachel sitting in the baby sling in front of his chest, Jack had opinions.  A lot of opinions.

He had the most opinions about the bathroom.  Two sinks, a luxury jet tub for his game sore muscles and a double shower for those moments where a shower was more than a way to wash the grime off.  Where it became a chance for him to reconnect with his husband.  Jack had tried to reconnect with him in there tonight but Eric had spanked him on the ass and told him to strip and get on the bed.

“We’re not doing it bent over a counter tonight honey.” He’d said.

“Why not?” Jack had smirked, “It can be like we’re young again.”

“Except we’re not young anymore and your knees won’t thank you for making them kneel on tile for too long.”

Jack had guffawed at Bitty’s implied stamina but relented because as much as Jack wanted to believe they could still drop and have sex whenever they felt like it Eric wasn’t too far off with the knee comment.

“Are you naked?” Eric’s disembodied voice asks.

“As the day I was born.” Jack replies leaning back into the pillows.

Eric saunters out wearing a pair of tight black briefs that hug his phenomenal ass and highlight a part of his anatomy that makes Jack feel hot inside and out.

“Crisse.” Jack mutters.  “You are so hot.”

Eric looks himself up and down doing his best impression of Jack earlier in the nursery, “Me?” he places his hand on his chest in disbelief, his wedding band glints in the bedroom light and it makes Jacks heart thump happy beneath his ribs.

“Har har.  Get over here so I can kiss you.”

For a second it looks like Bitty’s going to deny him, his hands are still on the door frame long after his shoulders have left it and his feet have started to carry him towards the bed.  He clearly had a plan, a plan to tease Jack but they so rarely get time to indulge in each other that even though his brain wants him to play their favourite game his body wants him to hurry up and take what he can before they’re interrupted by a crying baby.

They kiss and it’s like it always is.  Passionate, full of love and wholly encompassing.  When they commit to making out there is no hesitance about it but there is also no rushing.  Bitty closes his eyes, Jack closes his eyes and their mouths move together, tongues lapping, teeth nipping.  Jack laces his fingers through his hair and tugs him closer daring him to just try and get away.  Bitty’s lips are soft and he tastes minty and Jack feels himself start to stiffen.

It’s been difficult adjusting to having two tiny people so dependent on them.  So demanding, and helpless, and it doesn’t really ever get any easier but they’re learning to adapt.  They learn to function on less sleep.  They learn to put the kids down earlier for naps if they want some ‘adult time’.  They learn not to feel guilty calling sitters or foisting their kinder onto friends and family.  Everyone thought Bitty would be the worst for it, the one who struggled to leave his children in the care of others because he can come across as such a mother hen, so ready to do you a favour because he cares but when it first came up it was Jack who was the wreck.  Constantly checking his phone, asking Bitty as casually as he could if they should just call to check.  Turns out Bitty had more faith in their friends than Jack did.

Bitty breaks away taking the dare and gasps when Jack’s teeth try to bite and suck at his neck before he manages to pull away.

“Now, now.” Eric sits back on Jack’s thighs placing his hands on his hips running his thumbs up and down the dip between his hip bone and his belly.  “I have a plan.”

Jack raises a questioning brow, “Oh you do, do you?”

Eric’s smirk is naughty and it makes Jack pulse.  His husband notices.  “Yes I do.” He begins to move down, the hairs of his legs dragging against Jacks as he shifts down until his mouth hovers over Jack’s cock.

“And erm…” Jack shudders as Bitty just breathes near it.  God he could literally come just at the thought of what Bitty could do with his mouth right now.  “What’s the plan.”

Eric looks up at him his brown eyes so arresting, holding Jack’s liquid blues hostage.  “I’m gonna blow you so good you’ll see stars.”

He nearly comes right there.  He thinks he managed a brief curse but it’s lost in a moan as Bitty takes the head of him in his mouth and sucks – hard.

Jack can do nothing but lie back and enjoy the way his husbands mouth is hot and tight and wet – oh so wet around him.  His tongue digs into the little notch beneath, it flicks over the vein that pulses excitedly there and he barely gets his palm over his mouth in time to smother his groan.  Bitty’s hand is at the base twisting up and down as his tongue works miracles.

Eric Bittle sucks his dick like he loves it.  He does love it, or at least that’s what he’s told Jack who is inclined to believe him because they’re honest about what they like in bed and Jack can’t imagine how awful he would feel if he thought he’d been pressuring Bitty in some way to do something he’s not really that enthusiastic about. 

But Eric would tell him because they talk about this stuff all the time.  Or they used to.  It’s been different lately.  They communicate, they talk every day about the big things and the little things with the same candour and sensitivity as always but the season starting up again and Jacks been at practice and he’s working really hard to bring a new level to his game so he’s been putting in extra hours on top of the ones he puts in for the rookies so that when they come to face Boston they won’t get the drubbing they got last year.

God that was embarrassing.

Jack was so scared he’d get traded.  He couldn’t sleep for two weeks during the renegotiations.  He told himself he could stand a pay cut if he could just stay with the Falconers but then they’d decided to adopt again and Coach got sick and Bitty was stressing about money and covering the medical bills ‘just for the tests that are gonna tell us if he even needs more tests’.

There was no trade or pay cut, but there was no pay increase either and even though it looked like Jack got what he wanted it felt like he’d gotten the exact opposite.  Stasis was almost as bad as a backwards slide.  Backwards slides were not good for his career or his family and so now he needed to really prove he was worth the investment.

So he’s working really hard both on the ice and off it because Rachel is a toddler and she’s becoming a little person and it’s wonderful, but she’s also a terror and Thibby is teething and he’s crabby and Bitty is convinced his flash moods are a sign of something more complicated and he’s getting stressed out.  Jack hates it when Bitty is stressed out because he tends to explode like a star; he collapses in.

And he feels so guilty afterwards.

Jack needs to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Maybe he could talk to his coaches about his performance lately.  Get a real feel for how they think he’s doing.  Maybe he could call Shitty and see if he and Lardo have any plans to come down and stay and then maybe he can slyly ask them to help with the kids.

But no, that’s not fair.  They have two of their own and it’s not fair to outsource when he knows he needs to help Bitty himself.  They’re his children too.  He shouldn’t use his job as an excuse not to be there.  He told Eric that hockey wasn’t more important than his family and Eric looked at him with trust and said honestly, that he knew that but what if he’s changed his mind? What if Jacks performance these past few weeks have made Eric doubt his promise to put them first?

Jack’s heart starts to thump in that unfamiliar way.

Bitty slows until he stops completely and releases Jack with a wet pop.  “You okay up there sweetheart?”

Jack cracks his eyes open and smiles apologetically and ashamed.  “I thought I was but then I couldn’t stop thinking and I sort of…lost it.”

Bitty’s eyes dart from his to his softening dick.  “It’s okay.” He crawls back up the bed and gathers Jack into his arms until his shoulder is resting on his chest and then kisses the top of Jack’s head.  He brushes his fringe back from his eyes, takes Jacks hand and entwines their fingers.  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jack takes a moment to think about it.  On the one hand whatever has him so wound up has not vanished.  It has not melted away over time and it’s stopping him from popping a boner for the man he loves who has a very talented mouth and a 100% success record of getting Jack off so hard he sees stars.  On the other hand he doesn’t really want to verbalise it in case giving the feelings words makes them more than false feelings, makes them stronger and enables them to cement in his mind and grow infectious roots.

But festering is the same so…he rolls over and admits;

“I had a panic attack in the car today.”

“Oh honey.  That hasn’t happened in a while.” Bitty says evenly, “Were you driving? Did you have to pull over?”

“No I was in the parking lot at the rink.”

“You were okay then.” Bitty doesn’t phrase it like a question because obviously Jack was okay.  Panic attacks are scary but they cannot physically harm him.  He reminds himself of this.  Bitty isn’t being flippant he’s trying to fuel Jacks healthy thoughts.

“Yeah I was okay.  I don’t know why I suddenly felt so…afraid?” He knows it’s the right word but it feels so childish to say and he’s glad Eric chose to embrace him this way, so that Jack can talk into his chest and fool himself into thinking that he can hide his face.  “Practice was fine, it was great at the end because I got a handle on that corner shot that’s been eluding me and I had all these endorphins floating around my body after so I don’t know why I went from feeling good to freaking out but…” he trails off and jostles them both with a small shrug.

“Maybe you were more tired than you thought?” Jack doesn’t answer.  Eric presses a kiss to the top of his head.  “You’re stressed out sweetheart.”  Jack twists his lips.  He didn’t think he was but then he thinks about the spiral he slid down a second ago and finds himself admitting that yes, he is stressed.

“No more than usual.” Jack replies and it’s not a lie.  He had this concerns last year and the year before.  He has a variation on these concerns every year.  He thought by now he’d know how to deal with them.  He thought he’d know which ones to watch float by and which to grab for a closer inspection.

Bitty tilts his head back and gives an incredulous look.  “Are you serious? Good Lord we have two babies now, if you tell me that doesn’t stress you out I’m gonna get mad because it sure as hell stresses me out.”

Jack chuckles, “Okay maybe the kids can be stressful but it’s not a bad stressful…”

“Until your body realises it’s tired and thinks that your good stress looks an awful lot like the bad stress and reacts the way it would if that were the case.”

Jack takes a deep breath trying to focus on the feel of Bitty’s fingers carding slowly through his hair.  “I suppose so.  Maybe I am tired but the season is starting soon so I really need to buck up and get my head in the game.”

Bitty scoffs like that thought has personally offended him.  “I love how you think about punishing yourself for this.” He sounds bitter but when Jack looks up at him he can already see the remorse on his face.  “Sorry I didn’t mean to sound snappish.  I know you’re anxiety kicks it up during the season but you know that if you punish yourself you’ll make yourself feel worse and it’ll go round and round.”

Jack nods ruefully, “Self-perpetuating cycle.”

“Exactly.” Bitty presses another kiss to his head and continues to run his fingertips over Jack’s scalp.  It feels so good to be caressed like this.  He knows why Rachel finds it so easy to drift off after Bitty does it for her, it’s so relaxing.  “Honey you gotta be kinder to yourself.”

“I just…” He trails off trying to find a way of saying the next few words in a way that doesn’t sound self-pitying.  “It makes me feel like I’m not dealing.  Like I’m treading water but if I stop concentrating the wave will rise up and drown me.  It’s like a reality check telling me I can’t deal really, not as long as I have this.  It makes me feel incapable.” He swallows around a pain at the back of his throat.

He recognises he wants to cry.

Bitty moves so that they can look at one another.  His hand is gone from Jack’s hair but their fingers are still laced resting on Jack’s thigh.  He searches his gaze like he wants to make sure he’s paying attention when he says, “You don’t have to be capable all the time.  The responsibility does not fall squarely on your shoulders.  Jack we can take care of ourselves and of you when you need it.”

“I know.” But there’s no conviction in his tone because   Jack’s anxiety has him fighting against needing others even though every therapist he’s ever seen has always gone to great pains to tell him that it’s okay to reach out for help.  That the number of people who will reach back will always pleasantly surprise him.  That those who offer him support will always outweigh those who leave him out to dry.

“Honestly sweetheart.  But,” he continues, “If you need me to remind you of a time when you were captain capable I will refer once again to Rachel.”

“Rachel?” Jack quirks a curious brow.

“Yeah.  Remember when she’d hold her breath if she hurt herself?”

Jack feels the fear of those moments like it’s happening right now.  The memory trickles down his whole body making the hairs on his arms prickle.  This time it’s him who pulls Bitty in until they’re lying down under the covers, legs tangled together, his head resting on Jacks chest.

“Remember the first time she did it?”

The scariest day of his life.  Yes he remembers.  He nods.

“Well there I was cradling what I thought could be the dead body of our daughter and you came in took one look at her, then me, scooped her out of my arms, and blew on her face.”

Jack remembers that day vividly.  Not so much the whole setting, he knows they were in the kitchen because the light is brightest there and he was squinting against the sun beaming through the patio doors.  When he thinks about that day – which admittedly he tries to avoid re: scariest day of his life – he can see the green frills on Rachel’s pants, he can see the splash of porridge from the breakfast she’d thrown down herself.  He can see the tears pouring down Bitty’s red terrified face.  He doesn’t remember being calm though.  He remembers feeling like his heart had stopped, like ice was pumping through his veins.  He remembers holding her limp body.

He takes a breath.  That’s in the past.  It happened a long time ago and she’s fine sleeping in a tiny bed next to Thibby because she won’t sleep unless she’s near him these days.  He tells his brain to remember when they are.  “I don’t even know where I got that from.  I didn’t even know it would work.”

Bitty sits up a little and gapes down at him.  “You didn’t?”

“No? I mean I’m sure I’d read it somewhere or seen it on tv.  But it didn’t do any good for both of us to be panicking and you were so upset and scared and I just-“ Jack blows out a breath, “tried it.”

Bitty looks like he doesn’t know how to feel about this new information but the situation being that they still have said child he doesn’t mention how much Jack chancing it is not a completely welcome surprise.  “Well,” he answers, “it worked.  But if you hadn’t been so controlled things might have been different.”

They both take a moment to imagine the empty devastating version of their lives without their daughter.  “I’m really glad she’s over that now.” Jack says at length.

“God me too.”

“But that’s different.”

Bitty blinks at him confused, “How?”

“Because I need to be calm in situations like that? It’s easier maybe for me to be calm when others need me to be but when I’m spiralling on my own it’s like my brain knows I’m by myself and that I’m free to go haywire.”

Bitty’s shoulders drop and he ducks back into his spot beneath Jack’s arm and presses a loving kiss to his lips.  “It’s gonna happen sometimes but you’re not that eighteen year old kid anymore Jack.  You know how to cope, you know how to breathe through those moments.  Today was an anomaly.”

“An anomaly not a trend.”

“Exactly.” Bitty smiles satisfied that Jack has come to a healthier thinking space.

“You must be sick of hearing about this.”

Bitty takes a deep breath but it doesn’t sound wearying, impatient or steeling.  It sounds like he’s gearing up for a big sentence, which is exactly what he is.  “You’re allowed to be annoyed about this honey.  You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t make it happen.  It just developed and I know that sucks all the more because it feels like an unfair punishment.”

Jack is continually amazed that Bitty can say things exactly the way he wants to say them himself and exactly the way Jack needs to hear them.

“But you mustn’t think one wobble means you’ve slipped down the whole mountain okay? Progress isn’t a straight line.  So today was just a loose rock making you stumble.” Jack makes a humming noise to convey that he could begin to agree and that Bitty can continue.  “But now the rocks gone and the path is new again ready for you to continue walking up.”

Jack rolls them over until he’s underneath him and hugs him so tightly something cracks.  “I love you.”

Bitty giggles as Jack peppers his neck with kisses.  “And I love you.  You don’t give yourself enough credit for how strong you are.”

Jack flexes his biceps around Bitty.  “I am pretty beefed.”

Bitty rolls his eyes, “I meant emotionally lug head.” But he kisses him anyway.  “You wanna grab some peanut butter and apple and watch that Jadotville film? I heard it’s a true story.”

“Do you mind?” Jack asks sheepishly.  “I know you wanted to have sex tonight.”

Bitty scoffs gently, “Oh honey come on.” He presses another kiss to Jacks chest then crawls to the end of the bed for the remote.  He clicks the tv on before throwing both that and a pair of boxers at Jack.  “I’ll get the snacks.”

Jack watches Bitty’s booty walk away tipping his head to the side as if it could improve the view, but the views perfect already.  “We’re okay right?”

Bitty stops and turns around a quizzical frown curving his brow.  “Of course honey.  I’m so happy with you, with our family.  Honestly I am peak smug bastard on Instagram when I post pictures of our kids and you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah but Lardo brought me back in check when she said she thought Farmer and Chow might be cuter than us.  I mean I know she’s wrong but still…she could be right.  That baby of theirs could really seal it for them.” He jokes.

Jack laughs.

“What about you? Are you happy?  Panic attack aside.”

“Panic attack aside.” Jack agrees.  “Yeah I’m happy.”

Eric beams.  “Good.” He turns on his heel once again to leave.

“Hey Bits?”

Bitty has to grab the door frame to stop his body from falling into the hall.  He looks over his shoulder.  “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Bitty’s eyes are soft and his smile beatific across his perfect pink lips.  “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it. Let me know in the comments below. This is the first Zimbits piece I've written so cc and kudos are appreciated and make my black heart beat. <3


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